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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933521">I'm Sure You'll Tell Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse'>Ghostinthehouse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Demon and Angel Professors [78]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Books, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Mistaken Identity, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:22:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>666</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933521</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley didn't have time to look around and admire the pleasant weather, he had an upset angel to soothe.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Demon and Angel Professors [78]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Aspec-friendly Good Omens</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'm Sure You'll Tell Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">The weather was pleasant enough, early autumn sunshine warming the air, and Crowley was even having a low pain day. He didn't have time to look around and admire it though, he had an upset angel to soothe instead.</p>
<p class="western">"He wanted to take books from my collection," Aziraphale ranted, hands chopping at the air with the force of his displeasure. "My private collection! When I said I wouldn't even consider loaning books to someone who didn't know how to care for books, he brought me one of his own to show me how 'well' he cared for books. Do you know what he'd done to that poor book?"</p>
<p class="western">Crowley couldn't resist a tiny, fond, smile as he listened. Aziraphale was, frankly, adorable when this particular aspect of his bastard self showed up - which wasn't nearly often enough these days. "No, angel," he drawled, content to stroll beside him as they crossed the campus grounds to the greenhouse, "but I'm sure you're going to tell me." For now, he just let his angel rant in safety. Better that Aziraphale poured this out into Crowley's amused, endeared, ears, than letting this anger spill out around the new students. Who on earth knew what it might inspire them to come out with (or frankly, scare them enough that his angel would be hurt when he tried to be his nicest self and they flinched).</p>
<p class="western">Aziraphale scowled and jabbed a finger at Crowley's chest. "You know perfectly well that you're as protective of my books as I am."</p>
<p class="western">"That's because they're your books, angel, not books in general." Crowley tucked his fingers into too-small pockets and angled his head at the turning onto the flatter route. "This way, I think. Come on, you can tell me as we go."</p>
<p class="western">Aziraphale huffed indignantly and made the turn, even as his voice sharpened into something truly scandalised. "He'd <em>folded the corners of the pages down</em>, and he thought <em>that</em> was taking good care of them? He thought <em>that </em>would persuade me to let my personal books out of sight? In the hands of someone like that? I let him know in no uncertain terms what I thought of his so called loving care of books, I can tell you. He most certainly is not getting his hands on mine, in any way, shape, or form, let alone..."</p>
<p class="western">***</p>
<p class="western">"Oh heck, that's Dr Crowley arguing with Dr Fell, we'd better get out of here!" The two students nearest Lucille took off.</p>
<p class="western">Lucille followed their gaze to see one professor talking with another, his hands darting in choppy, angry, gestures. She'd heard of both professors in the couple of weeks she'd been here, but as a history student, she hadn't seen them until now. She tucked herself back under a tree and watched, trying to match the faces to names.</p>
<p class="western">Dr Crowley, from all she'd heard was a nasty, evil, vicious person, all bite and no kindness to him, while Dr Fell was sweet, kind, gentle, and very much in love with his husband.</p>
<p class="western">Watching the pair now, she saw the angry one scowl fiercely, and jab a scolding finger at the other, who had a tiny, fond, smile hovering on his mouth, and much more relaxed body language.</p>
<p class="western">The pair turned to come down the path in her direction and, like the other two students before her, she hastily got out of there as quick as she could. She had a lecture to get to anyway, and essays to research in the library, and she didn't want to be late to class again.</p>
<p class="western">Yes, she thought as she made herself scarce, she could place them now, and they looked so different from each other that there could be no confusing them. Dr Crowley, in all his vicious anger, was small and round, like a living thundercloud about to strike someone down, while Dr Fell was long and slender, like the ribbon wrapping a cake, and just as sweet and soft beneath his red hair.</p>
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